Let Me Fall
by NicolexSam
Summary: He's the washed up singer looking for a 2nd chance , she's the paparazzi princess. They shouldn't have anything to do with one another...so why can't they stay away from each other?PuckxRachel
1. Chapter 1

**I own nothing ! Ryan Murphy and his crew own everything **

**This is ****DarkAngelElektra**** story I have only transformed it into a glee fic ****  
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**Let Me Fall**

Chapter 1: The Prodigal's Return

_August 21, 2006_

He was never supposed to come back.

At least, that's what he'd told himself. But yet, somehow, against all his better judgment, Noah Puckerman found himself back in Hollywood. By all rights, he should have felt grateful, or at the very least, nostalgic. But to Noah, it was just another party, concert or cd signing. That's all; it didn't matter how many parties, concerts or cd signings—just so long as he could sing. To some celebrities it was all about the gold, all about the prestige—but to the Mo hawked-Haired singer, it had always been all about the feeling. No money could come close to the rush he felt as he sang in front of an audience….

Not that he was totally opposed to holding gold. He might be a daredevil, but Noah Puckerman was still there to win. He might be a little older and a little wiser, but he was still hungry for competition, ready to sink his teeth into whatever talent had sprung up in the industry during his absence. Maybe he wasn't ready to challenge for the lead role in the Spring Awakening play _yet_, but he would start on the bottom, if that's what it took. Start on the bottom and work his way up; _prove_ to those guys in the comfy chairs who made all the decisions that the Charismatic Enigma could run with the big dogs.

Puck walked down the hall away from the gorilla position, thinking about his recently ended first scene back, grimacing as he did so. Edge—now _that_ had been starting at the bottom. It didn't matter that he was now also the lead in the play; as far as Puck was concerned, ever since that whole situation with Sarah and Matt, Edge was scum, plain and simple. Most likely, someone on high had wanted to stir up some of the old controversy surrounding the scum, and figured that one Puckerman was as good as another. Well, it didn't work like that. Edge and Sarah—they were Matt's business, not his, and lead role aside, Puck wanted no part of it.

This brought him to the way the scene had ended. People had been congratulating him on his return ever since he'd stumbled backstage; he wanted to remind them all just how empty that return was. A small part in a huge play that didn't mean anything. He hadn't won; he'd just _survived_. The whole point of returning was to prove to everyone that he wasn't washed-up; that he could burn bright without burning out.

The Mo hawked-Haired boy ground to a halt, closing his eyes and tilting his head up toward the ceiling. He clenched his fists at his sides, remembering his last concert, recalling the roar of the fans and the rush of air and how good, _how good_, it felt…

Someone bumped into him, almost hard enough to knock him over. Puck's eyes flew open, and he staggered to the side. He heard a sliding sound, and looked down to see a mobile Sidekick skittering between his legs. The Charismatic Enigma did a weird side-step, crossing one leg over the other to avoid stepping on the device. He teetered for a moment, his arms pinwheeling back and forth. His equilibrium regained, he bent down, picking up the SideKick and staring at it for a moment in bewilderment.

"_Excuse me_!" Puck almost winced at the female voice that grated on his ears. He did not envy the guy who had to wake up to _that_. He turned toward the source of the voice—then froze when he saw that it belonged to perhaps one of the prettiest girls that he'd ever seen.

She was short, probably only a few inches above five feet, and definitely Latina. Her long curly hair was a dark reddish-brown. She was dressed all in brown, from her chocolate-colored crocheted top to her furry brown boots. She would have been gorgeous—if her face hadn't been twisted into an expression of arrogant irritation.

The mystery girl cleared her throat, holding out her hand palm up. Her nails were long and perfectly manicured. Puck looked from her hand back up to her face. "Do you _mind_?" she snapped, and he realized that she was referring to the SideKick. Wordlessly, he held it out toward her, and she snatched it from his grasp, glaring at him as though expecting him to grab it right back and run like hell.

Wrapping her slender fingers around the mobile device (they looked more like talons, now that Puck thought about it), the mystery girl crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her booted foot impatiently. Apparently, she found Puck's reticence even more annoying. "Well?" she added, raising one eyebrow expectantly.

Puck shot his eyes to the left, then to the right, wondering if he'd somehow missed part of the conversation. "Well…what?" he finally asked.

The mystery girl sighed, as though the answer was obvious and Jeff was slow. "_Well_…aren't you going to apologize for bumping into me?" she replied.

The Mo hawked-Haired Warrior felt an overwhelmingly urge to laugh, and he _did_ laugh, throwing his head back as he tried to regain control of himself. This girl was nothing more than a spoiled little princess, one who was accustomed to getting what she asked for. If it rained on her birthday, she probably would have taken it as a personal affront. Wiping tears from his eyes, he looked back at the mystery girl. His laughter must have pissed her off even more; steam was practically coming out of her ears. "_Apologize_?" he managed to get out between chuckles. "_You_ ran into _me_, remember?"

The mystery girl scowled; she must not have been used to having her logic questioned. "You—you—you _punk_!" she sputtered, an epithet, which made Jeff laugh even harder. "Don't you _know_ who my _boyfriend_is?"

Puck shook his head, unable to answer. He felt like he was about to throw up; he was laughing so hard.

Once again, he had given her the wrong answer. The girl's face turned bright red. "You _will_!" she spat. "Wait 'til I tell him about this; he's going to kick your ass!"

"Good!" Puck replied with some difficulty. God, he couldn't remember the last time he'd found a situation so _funny_! "I welcome the _competition_!" He broke down again on the last word, and had to bend over and put his hands on his knees. After several agonizing seconds, he was able to get himself back under control, and straightened up.

The mystery girl was still where he'd left her, peering at him critically. Something about the probing intensity of her gaze unnerved Puck, and he felt compelled to comment. "What? What're you staring at now?"

The mystery girl looked back at him for a moment, and then her mouth curved up into a malicious smile. "_Nobody_," she cooed, poisoned sweetness dripping off her every word. Her eyes never left his. "_Nobody at all_."

Her icy calm was more terrifying than her rage a moment ago, and Puck felt his grin fade. The girl's smile grew even wider; she must have been pleased with her handiwork. Waggling her fingers at him in a farewell, she mouthed "Bye!" before spinning smartly on her heel and continuing down the hall.

Puck watched her depart, shaking his head. Girls like that…beautiful to look at, but God help the poor sap who got too close. And Puck had been around long enough to know when it just wasn't worth getting your hand bitten off at the wrist. Still…it didn't hurt to look…and he would have been lying if he said that that girl—bitchy personality and all—didn't intrigue him.

The Charismatic Enigma looked down the now-deserted hallway, uttering the one question on his mind:

"Who _was_that?"


	2. Chapter 2

**I own nothing!**

Chapter 2: Harbored Doubts

Rachel Berry stumbled into her hotel room, followed closely by her boyfriend, Jesse St James. Both of them were laughing; the sound of it just a little too malicious and a little too biting to be in mere amusement. Both of them were also slightly intoxicated.

Rachel spun around in a slow circle, leaning forward and almost falling against Jesse as he approached her. She reached up and draped her arms around his neck, smiling up at him. "Can you _believe_ how ridiculous David sounded tonight?" she exclaimed, her strident voice holding only the faintest slur. "All that crap about wanting me to be the godmother to one of his snot-nosed brats—I almost started laughing right there in front of everyone in the room!"

Jesse bent his head down, his breath hitting her face in a hot wave. Rachel fought the urge to flinch and won. She and Jesse had been celebrating; it wasn't her fault that her boyfriend now smelled like a brewery. "What did he expect? That you and him were going to ride off into the sunset like one of those cheesy Westerns?"

Rachel snorted a low derisive sound. "Yeah, right; he would probably crush the horse." Both she and Jesse burst into scornful laughter at this thought. He slowly trailed his thumb over her lower lip, his eyes drinking in the contours of her face.

"That loser never knew what hit him," he mused, his tone almost admiring. "You really had him fooled, Rach."

The Dominant Diva's smile widened a little. "That's why they call it _acting_; Jess…and we both know that when it comes to acting, I'm the _best_."

Jesse touched her face, the backs of his fingers trailing down her cheek. "Well, thanks to your acting, we were finally able to get rid of that has-been waste of space." His tone became disdainful. "Can you imagine what a joke you would be—what _both_ of us would be—if we had to spend our careers associated with a fat slob like David Karofsky?"

Her boyfriend was too full of alcohol and euphoric confidence to notice the slight strain that crept into her voice. "Yeah…I can just imagine."

St James leaned even closer, his lips grazing hers. "That's why we make such a great pair, Mel. The soon to be lead, the hottest Diva on set, and just between the two of us, baby…" He lowered his voice. "Acting isn't the _only_ thing that you're the best at." With that, he captured her mouth with his, gripping the back of her neck as he kissed her. Rachel pressed her body against Jesse's, disentangling her arms from his neck, running her hands down his chest.

For a moment, the pair seemed to melt into one another—then with an exasperated groan, Jesse pulled back. "Aw, shit, time out, Rach—I have to take a piss."

Rachel's beautiful features registered disgust and she involuntarily took a step back as well. "_Wow_, Jesse…TMI."

Jesse shrugged. "What can I say?" He moved toward the bathroom, his eyes still focused on his girlfriend. "I'll be right back; _you_—" He pointed with both hands at Rachel, winking. "—don't go anywhere." He turned, and had just reached the doorframe when he stopped, glancing back at the Dominant Diva as he entered the bathroom.

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, the smile on Rachel's face slowly faded, replaced by a grimace of irritation. She loved Jesse, she really did, but sometimes, he was just so…_oblivious_. Gradually, this too vanished, a countenance of resigned sadness taking its place. The lead in Spring Awakening sighed, bowing her head, her shoulders slumping. She turned, and moved to the window, pushing aside the patterned curtain to stare at the urban landscape outside the hotel.

All night, she had been trying to tell herself that she had no reason to feel guilty, that she had done the right thing by betraying David Karofsky—but despite all of her assurances, guilt had still managed to sneak back in. Somehow, even after all the pain she had caused, she still possessed a conscience, was still able to feel remorse for her actions. And no matter how matter times she told herself that what had happened tonight had not been her fault—deep down, she knew that it was.

"Stop," the Diva whispered to herself, reaching up to massage her temples with one hand. "I did what I had to." At this, she almost let out a bitter little laugh. That should be her own personal mantra; she should have it tattooed on her forehead. _I did what I had to._

_I did what I had to…consequences be damned._

She had spent years trying to break into this business, gritting her teeth and swallowing her pride when she was passed over for auditions and being rejected nearly every time. And when she had finally received that long-sought-after contract, what had her first order of business been? To be lumped in with said rejects and forced to participate in useless town plays second hour filler like lingerie fashion shows and limbo contests. No one asked her to act. No one even cared that she _could_ sing.

Getting demoted back to OVW…it had stung, but it had also ended up being the best thing for her career. It had been there that she had met Jesse…and there that she had vowed to stop being nice. _Nice_ had never gotten her anything. When she had reappeared on the Spring Awakening set several months later with Jesse, it didn't take the other people long to figure out that she wasn't the same sweet little Rachel Berry anymore.

Over the next year, she stepped on anyone and everyone—celebrities and managers alike—in order to make her mark in this business; making her three-time Oscar nominee in the process. She and Jesse had been signed to Spring Awakening; she had used that same ruthless ambition to secure the lead role for herself and for her boyfriend…and to help him keep it.

But now, three months into her second stint on set, what did she really have to show for it? She had spent her career achieving greatness for others, but had obtained none for herself. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, she was JAD—Just another Diva. She and Jesse were the A-list couple, the darlings of the paparazzi—but all anyone really cared about was Jesse. After three months, the only things she had achieved for herself were one or two insignificant singles…and a guilty conscience.

Sometimes, late at night (while Jesse snored away obliviously beside her), Rachel would lie awake and stare up at the ceiling, wondering if all of the success, all of the notoriety in the world was really worth anything if it came at the cost of her own soul—

The Dominant Diva squeezed her eyes closed, balling up her fist and pressing it against the cool glass. _No_. She would not waste her time concerning herself with what everyone else thought of her. What had everyone else ever done for her? The only person who had ever been there for her was Jesse; he was all she needed.…

But as her remorse evaporated in the wake of her ambition, Rachel couldn't stop herself from wondering if there was something _missing_; if she was lacking some intangible element in her life that was infinitely more important than any award…

"Hey, Rach, what're you doing over there?"

The Dominant Diva turned at the sound of Jesse's voice, her eyes widening in shock. A stifled gasp escaped her lips. Jesse had exited the bathroom, its warm white light illuminating the edges of his body, but leaving his face and figure in shadow. For a heartbeat, she was sure that he was someone else, someone with less hair and the most intense green eyes she had ever seen…

Then Jesse stepped into the light, revealing his face and shattering the illusion. Rachel let her breath out in a long relieved exhale. She couldn't fathom what could have caused her to imagine something like that. Jesse and the guy she had met earlier—they were nothing alike. That guy was a rebel, a punk, a burnout who clearly didn't understand his place in the grand scheme of things. He was on the other side of the spectrum, and eyes or no eyes; he was so far from her type that it was a waste of time even making these comparisons.

He moved toward her slowly, his handsome face creasing in concern. "Rach? Are you all right?"

The Dominant Diva gave her head a quick shake, reddish brown ringlets bouncing against her face. "I'm fine…you just startled me, that's all." She stepped forward, her mouth curving up into a flirtatious smile. "So...where were we?"

As soon as Puck arrived at the arena in Canton, Ohio, for the Friday night rehearsals, he was immediately summoned to the general manager's office. The Mo hawked-Haired boy figured that it had to be some form of good news, since he had _technically_ aced his scene on Monday. But then again, with the Zamias, you never knew. It was no secret that their feud with Rock records was slowly unraveling both Vince and Shane. Puck had left the set last week shortly after his match; it hadn't been until later that he had heard about David Karofsky, how they had fired him _after_ making him join the Kiss My Ass Club. Granted, it wasn't the first time Karofsky had lost his job—and probably wouldn't be the last. But still, his abrupt and humiliating termination still served as an ugly reminder that you were never really safe in this business.

_There has to be a middle ground_…Puck mused to himself as he made his way to the GM's office. _There has to be someplace where I can just compete without stepping on someone else's politics_… He wanted no part of Edge, and he _definitely_ wanted nothing to do with this whole Rock business; there had to be a third option available. Maybe that's what he was about to find out.

He reached the room, and raising his hand, rapped lightly on the door with his knuckles. He heard an impatient "Come in!" and pushing the door open, entered the space. The first thing he saw was Shane Zamia sitting on the edge of a large wooden desk. The elder Zamia sibling gestured toward the other side of the room, where two luxurious black leather sofas formed a "V" in the corner. "You're here; have a seat."

Puck turned toward the couches, noticing the room's other occupant for the first time. Finn leaned back a little, his muscles tensing at the sight of the new arrival. The two men eyed each other warily for a few seconds. Puck knew Finn a little bit; they had been in the studio together briefly before he had been released by the company. Back then, the third-generation Singer had just been recruited by a hot new record producer called Evolution, and despite his young age, had been a complete douche. Judging by the arrogant sneer touching Finn's mouth, very little had changed in the past three and a half years.

The Charismatic Enigma took a seat on the other sofa, crossing his ankle over his knee and focusing on the Chairman's son. Shane satisfied that he had both their attention, cleared his throat and began. "I brought both of you here to tell you that you'll be competing against each other this week, for the lead role in this play." At this news, both Superstars shot each other another suspicious glance, but neither one said anything. Shane continued. "Now, I want to think of these as warm-up rehearsals, because your auditions on Monday night will determine the next number-one-contender for Edges role, Jesse St James will also be auditioning for the part and if he gets it the person who comes second will get Jesse's role." He fell silent, allowing this news to sink in.

The younger Puckerman felt a shock of adrenaline and excitement course through him. A shot at the lead role…_that_was the kind of competition he'd been seeking. True, he'd have to go through Finn Hudson to get it (douche or not, the guy _was_ talented), but _still_, a shot at the lead role—

But he was getting ahead of himself; there might be strings attached. After all, he hadn't exactly left the company on the best of terms; why were they giving him _anything_? Puck opened his mouth to ask why, but luckily, Finn beat him to it.

"No offense, Shane," His voice was dripping with condescension. "But why exactly is someone like _Noah Puckerman_ getting a shot at the title? I mean, the guy's a burnout—"

"Nice to see you again, too, Finn," the Mo hawked-Haired Warrior interjected sarcastically.

Finn went on as though there had been no interruption. "—he leaves, disappears for anoth3 years, then out of the blue decides to return, and you welcome him back like some kind of prodigal son. Meanwhile, _I've_ been busting my ass for this company for the past three _years_. Need I remind you that I was the _youngest_ actor in this indusrty?"

"You don't need to remind me," the elder Zamia sibling replied quietly. "In fact, _Finn_, since you're looking for a reason—let me remind _you_ that the so-called 'prodigal son' _aced his audition and rehearsal _ last week."

Randy scoffed. "Big deal;

"Yeah?" Shane countered, his voice faintly challenging. "And last time I checked, you_ didn't._ , so as far as I'm concerned, that makes you both even. Now—" The Chairman's son rose to his feet. "I've got a lot of work to get done before the show tonight, so unless either of you gentlemen has anything else to add, I'll see you both later."

Finn glowered, but didn't say anything. Puck merely rose to his feet, nodding courteously at Shane, who returned the gesture. The Charismatic Enigma moved to the door, opening it and stepping out into the hall.

He had gone barely five feet when a hand clamped down onto his shoulder, spinning him forcibly around. Puck found himself staring into Finn's cold brown eyes. Finn glared back at him for a moment, his face twisting into a sneer. "So the great Noah Puckerman has _finally_ returned to us," he spat mockingly. "Listen, Puck, you may have been hot shit years ago, but you're out of your league if you think that you're beating me. Everyone _knows_ that you're washed up; that you're just one mistake away from crashing and burning—"

"You like to talk a lot, Finn," Puck interrupted, surprised by how calm his voice sounded. "Tell me—how much of that talking is going to help you out in the audition?"

Finn's eyes narrowed to small slits. "You better watch your back," he growled.

"I'll keep that in mind," Puck retorted. For several moments, the two Superstars regarded each other, neither one willing to back down. Eventually, Finn tore his gaze from Puck and walked away—but not before making sure to bump into the Mo hawked-Haired Warrior extra hard with his shoulder as he did so. Puck stumbled, almost losing his footing and leaning back against the wall for support. He watched him depart, his mouth curling into a grimace of distaste. "Dick." he muttered under his breath.

Just then, another hand touched his arm. Puck whirled around, fully expecting to see another Superstar full of trash-talk—the angry remark on his lips dying when he beheld the girl standing behind him. She had long blond hair and large green eyes. Her features were perfect and precise, like those of a Barbie doll, but the warmth and emotion in her face made her far more interesting and attractive than any Barbie.

Puck didn't know what to say; he was temporarily lost for words. The girl tilted her head to the side, studying him with those huge eyes of hers. "You're Noah Puckerman, right?" Jeff still couldn't speak, only nodded. The girl extended her hand. "Hi! I'm Quinn. Quinn Fabray."

The Charismatic Enigma tentatively accepted it, closing his fingers around hers. "Call me Puck, Nice to meet you," he finally managed to say. He wondered where he had seen this girl before, and in a flash, it came to him. "Wait…you're the backstage reporter, aren't you?"

Quinn grimaced, an expression which she somehow managed to make look absolutely adorable. "If you can _call_ it that," She noticed Puck's questioning countenance and offered an explanation. "It's more like 'Here! Wear your skimpiest top, hold this microphone, ask the dumbest questions on earth, and then wonder _why_ they call you an idiot.'" She stopped, flushing slightly in embarrassment. "Sorry…I'm babbling, aren't I?"

There was something about her bubbly effusiveness that was both overwhelming and utterly endearing, and Puck found himself warming to her. Besides, she was the first person who hadn't treated him like some kind of unwanted interloper. The Mo hawked-Haired Warrior smiled. "No more than anyone else."

Quinn blushed harder, glancing down at her feet. "It's just…I'm kind of star struck right now; I was a really big fan of yours—I'm _still_ a really big fan." She glanced up, her green eyes locking onto his once again.

"Thanks," Puck answered awkwardly, feeling like an idiot. To him, it had always been about performing; he still couldn't wrap his head around the idea that he'd been doing it long enough for people to _admire_ him—especially girls as pretty as this.

The backstage reporter glanced down the hall, then back at Puck "It must be weird for you—being back here," she offered. "I bet a lot has changed."

The Charismatic Enigma nodded slowly. For a moment, it was Monday night again, and he was back at that hallway, staring at that girl, that beautiful viper who had called him a nobody…But then the moment ended, and he was back in the present, staring at another girl, one just as lovely, but the complete polar opposite of the other one. "Yeah," he finally replied. "A lot _has_ changed_._" _And a lot hasn't…_he added silently to himself.

Quinn glanced down at her feet again, obviously steeling herself for something. "Listen," she began. "I was heading to the catering table to grab some water—do you…want to come with me?"

Her nervousness and trepidation was so cute that Puck couldn't help himself; he grinned. "Sure!" he replied. Quinn's face lit up instantly, her lips curving up into a sunny smile. Puck pushed himself off the wall, and the two of them began walking toward the intersection of corridors up ahead.

"You're going to have to help me out," he told Quinn. The backstage reporter's eyes widened and she nodded seriously. "I've been away for three years, so there's a lot I've missed. I'm counting on _you_ to fill me in on everybody. Who's nice, who's not—" The pair moved out into the intersection. Puck continued. "—who I can talk to, and who I should avoid like the—"

That was all he got out before a blur of pink, white and brown slammed into him, knocking him off-balance. Unlike Monday night, Puck was distracted and unable to regain his equilibrium, lost his footing and fell. He heard a muffled shriek—which he assumed came from Quinn—and had the vague impression of rolling as he hit the ground. His eyes were squeezed shut; he felt his shoulder and back connect with the floor before he tumbled face-first onto a soft pile of something. He heard an "OOOF!", as though someone had just had the air knocked out of them.

For a second, Puck was too paralyzed by surprise to move. Then, above him, he heard Quinn exclaim: "Oh my God! Puck! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Puck tried to say, and then realized that his face was pressed against something warm and soft. Finding the floor with his hands, he pushed himself up, opening his eyes. His irises grew wide when he saw the sight beneath him. The soft pile he had landed on…was a girl, and the warm soft something that his face had been pressed against…was her ample cleavage. Puck felt his face burning. His gaze traveled up to her face, and he froze. No way. No fucking way. It couldn't be—

Rachel winced, her features twisting in pain. She wondered dimly what the hell had just happened. One minute, she had been hurrying down the hall, texting rapidly on her Sidekick, the next, she was lying flat on her back, with what felt like a golf bag draped over her. That idiot—whoever the hell he was, he had come out of nowhere. As soon as she was up, she was going to rip him _such_ a new one.

The Dominant Diva moaned, pressing one hand to her head. Her eyelids flickered open, and the first thing that her brown eyes saw was a very familiar pair of green ones staring down at her.

The Mo hawked-Haired Warrior and the paparazzi princess both gasped, then exclaimed at the same time:

"_You_!"


End file.
